This is a blog post that is a long overdue. Appropriately, it’s being posted at the end of Día de Los Muertos.

In truth. I thought about it a year ago, November 2017, after my grandmother Felicitas died.

Now, in light of her late husband, my paternal grandfather’s death, I’m compelled to write it.

A few years back I made a post about how I grew up not knowing Spanish and the effect it had on my upbringing and my ancestry.

Today, I lost another grandparent; my grandpa Lucas.

And the memories of last year and what I missed out on for almost 3 decades came back to light.

My grandpa Lucas was a hardworking, busy man. What memories I have of him were kind, stern, and generous. Rarely one to ever leave his property or home, we almost always only saw him when we traveled down to south Texas for summers and holidays. My Mom used to joke that every time we went down to visit, something had to die.

Because invariably, my grandfather would kill and butcher an animal when we visited. Usually a goat or a pig, and usually castrate another pig for fattening. My uncles and dad would then get the barbecue going. He and my dad taught me the importance and appreciation of what was raised and brought to the table. A ritual, if you will, that grounded us and reminded us of who we are and where we come from.

These will be the memories that will never leave me. A culture centered around the pit, the smell of something cooking, my grandma Felicitas’ literally larger than life flour tortillas, laughter, beer, and kids running around everywhere. And despite the language barrier, all this.

Despite my inability to hold a conversation with him, I learned and appreciated him by his example.

I can only imagine what it would’ve been like growing up talking to him. I know that there’s something missing. That I missed out. And I know there’s much more that needs to be posted here too, but alas is lost to acclimation.

So for what it’s worth, make the effort. If you speak another language, don’t be shy about it. If you are a culture that others may judge or frown upon, wear it as a badge of honor. It’s our differences that hold us together at the seams. We’re better for it. It’s not just a language. It’s not just a way of life.

Chocolate and I go way back. It's been there for me on my worst days. It's consoled me, it's made me happy, and it has made me smile. Frozen chocolate bars were heaven!

It also, however, had not helped my waistline and until today has never caused me to lose anything.

I love chocolate. No, I lovED chocolate. Sadly, we must part ways.

As I crunched into my frozen goodness tonight I bit into what I thought was a really tough piece of almond. I chomped and chomped and it refused to give in to my massive mastication.

So like any idiot I dive in fingers first to fish out that pesky bit.

Found it! But much to my chagrin, the chocolate usurper is not an almond. It actually had a pearly appearance.

Yes…I broke a piece of a molar off chewing frozen chocolate.

I wasn't even mad. I was actually amazed that could even happen. Oddly enough, it doesn't even hurt. I saved the tooth, brushed my teeth, drank water, and nothing! I'll call the dentist, and it'll get fixed or I'll just have the sucker pulled if it's too expensive.

So far we have seen Teotihuacan, anthropological museum in Chapultepec, and Xochimilco.

We made a short drive through paseo de la reforma that ends with the Angel of Independence that is recognized by so many as a symbol of Mexico's independence. It's larger than it looks on tv and much more magnificent.

Teotihuacan was cold. It's a huge complex that housed people's dating from before the toltecs to the Aztecs, and for each civilization it was a sacred place. We wanted to climb to the top of the temple of the sun but sadly the park was closing as we arrived. The temple took the shape of a wide-based, multi-platformed pyramid with stairs that became increasingly narrow as one walks up. So narrow, that to walk back down required visitors to side-step. It hailed on us that day and was amazingly cool. It had to have been at least in the 60's and for us Texas folks who are used to 100 degree August heat it was a refreshing change. So many (myself included) have this perception of Mexico being hot year round. Ironically it gets hotter in Houston than in parts of Mexico. Teotihuacan being one of those places.

The Museum was enormous! Set in the lush greenery of Chapultepec in front of the Flying Men, amongst the cypress and pines a two story building held relics from Mexico's past. Nahua, Aztec, Maya, Toltec, Olmec, Huastec, and many other civilization's unique examples of daily life were on display. The museum alone would require an entire day to fully appreciate and read. The inner courtyard had a small pond with reed grass, fish, and turtles living in it. Towards the entrance of the courtyard was a massive totem with various symbols on it that held up a roof from which water spilled out. So much water that the air was cooled by it and it even created a stiff, misty breeze as it rushed to the grating beneath.

Xochimilco is at turns relaxing and sad. As a world heritage site, it attracts people from all over the world. It's a system of canals left behind from the prehispanic period that compares to Venice. The many islands or 'chinampas' hold stores of all sorts as well as starting off points for the gondola-like 'trajineras'. You can not only enjoy a ride on the canals, you can sunbathe, have lunch, get serenaded, have a party and just simply explore all the islands have to offer. Vendors with food will float up to your trajinera and will give you a full meal. Mariachi's are common all along the canals and depending on the size of your trajinera, you could easily seat 15 people.

All this can be done on the canal, and because of this, the ecological balance of the canals and chinampas are in danger due to pollution and at times, overcrowding.

This is but only a small morsel of what Mexico City has to offer. It makes for a wonderful, short, trip.

In sum, there's a saying in spanish that I'd like to share: México, mágico. 'Magical México.

3/10/2013 1:52pm-Cuzco, Peru, Hotel El TriunfoThis may or may not be a good idea. I am suffering altitude sickness and my head is fuzzy. Yet, I insist on writing. I'm sipping down coca tea (yes the plant cocaine is made from) and enjoying the mountains and cathedral from a small cafe window.

Erika is one floor above me in our room. Room 302 to be exact, passed out from exhaustion due to our sleeping only 4 hours last night and altitude sickness. As soon as I'm done here I will be taking her a cup of tea.

For me, so many thoughts start by picking up a book. In this case, it's from picking up a blog I had started a while back but just didn't finish. Sometimes the words just can't be found and it takes time for them to come. At any given time I have maybe 5-6 blogs started. Unfinished until I can find exactly what I'm trying to say, and if I really believe it. Ironically, it delves into peace of mind. Although only an excerpt from a much larger work, here's a post from Seneca about peace of mind. I have italicized parts that after some thought have really struck a chord with me.

The first step to peace of mind is to be confident of yourself and what you believe. This requires us to avoid the knee-jerk reactions we have when something unfortunate happens in life. Too often we give up on our own aspirations. This then spirals out of control and we become hesitant of starting something new. This is how we become one of the dreaded “Joneses”. You know them: they’re the ones whose job or failings have left them soulless. They can’t tolerate looking inward. They’re never at rest. They constantly complain of boredom, and are jealous of those who progress.

I haven't posted anything in a while. Since March to be exact, but those who follow me on Facebook are hopefully aware as to why that may be.

The truth is I've found it hard to write coherently as of late. My thoughts have been a jumbled mess since about late April. That, of course, being when Mama started taking a turn for the worse in her struggle with cancer.

"Eat, friend Sancho, and support life, and leave me to expire under my reflections, and the severity of my misfortunes." -Picture taken in San Jose, Costa Rica 2007.

I had an epiphany recently. It came after reading this article, then seeing someone post some obscure quote on Facebook that was most likely used completely out of context to fulfill some random occurrence. I made the effort to see who the author was and did a little research on him. Yep, sure enough, the person who posted it, not only misinterpreted what was said, but insulted the person who had said it. What makes it even worse is that they used the ubiquitous “u” for “you” in the post.

I’m not going to make this blog about how the youth of today appear to speak in short-hand or how, due to linguistic acclimation, we have a posteriori nearly created new languages (spanglish anyone?) But I did want to share some of my thoughts on why this is the case.

I will complete 30 years on earth come November. While many from my generation have and will approach it with grace, I know there are some who do fret about the big 3-0 and beyond.

I’m not going to say you’re not getting older. You are. Your body’s cells are dying off at an incredible rate and having a harder time regenerating. You are not, physically, the same person you were when you were 20, and you won’t be the same person you are now, when you’re 40, and so on and so forth.

Much like in Roman times, we find ourselves asking where all the time went in our lives. The time we spend in life is splintered into an array of activities. Work, sports, social activities, sloth, ambition, greed to name a few, and the list could extend to infinity.

On The Shortness of Life, Seneca points out that life isn’t short, but that we waste much of it, even in our modern age where so much of what we do can be completed in a fraction of time compared to the past.“Some have no objective at all which to aim but are overtaken by fate as they gape and yawn”. We go about our lives without any solid direction. As a matter of fact, we are held ransom by the various desires in our heart. In this context, “desires” isn’t meant as sin, but as the excesses of our own prosperity. How many times have we worked ourselves to exhaustion? How many times are we robbed of our time for the sake of business, and have too many obligations to allow time for ourselves?